Or more precisely, the absence of Salvatore.

Damn the man.

After their prolonged, and deliciously erotic shower, Salvatore had dressed in one of the numerous designer suits that had been left in the walk-in closet, and pulled back his hair with a leather cord. Then with a lingering kiss, he’d taken off in search of Styx, leaving her to enjoy a quiet evening alone.

Exactly what she wanted.

So why did the humongous bed feel empty and the night stretch before her with a tedious boredom?

She clenched her teeth, jabbing her finger on the channel button of the remote control as she scrolled past infomercials, reruns of Green Acres, and a number of movies that involved an abundance of naked bodies and juvenile humor. There were a thousand channels. One of them had to have something worth watching.

She had just started on her third run through the channels when a light tap on the door offered a welcomed distraction.

Tossing aside the remote, she sucked in a deep breath, recognizing the scent of her sister.

“Darcy?”

“I come bearing gifts,” she called through the thick wood of the door. “Can I join you?”

“Of course.” Harley slid off the bed, her eyes widening in surprise as Darcy wheeled in a small cart that was overflowing with stacks of movies, bowls of popcorn, and large ceramic mugs. “How did you know…Salvatore.”

“He mentioned you wanted popcorn and a movie. I thought we could watch together if you don’t mind.” Darcy flashed a charming smile, looking decidedly impish in her casual shorts and skimpy top, her blond hair spiked. “I brought everything from Die Hard to You’ve Got Mail.”

“Definitely Die Hard,” Harley said before she could halt the revealing words. Hoping to cover her ridiculous aversion to romance, she bent to peer into the ceramic cups. “Hot chocolate?”

“My weakness.” Darcy perched on the edge of the bed as she waved a hand toward a delicately scrolled armoire. “There’s whiskey in the cabinet if you want it with a kick.”

Harley grimaced, joining her sister on the bed. “I prefer to keep my wits intact when Salvatore is around.”

“Ah.” Darcy tilted her head, studying her with an unnervingly perceptive gaze. “Very wise.”

Harley ran a self-conscious hand through her still damp curls.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Darcy grimaced. “I’m sorry. Nothing is a secret in the demon world.”

“What secret?”

“You’ve completed the mating bond.”

Harley pressed her hands to her face. Was that a blush heating her skin? Frigging hell. She was an idiot.

“Yes.”

“So, you’re Queen of the Weres. Congratulations.”

Disbelief jolted through her. Queen of Weres. She’d been so rattled by the shock of being mated to Salvatore that the rest of the baggage he brought with him had skimmed right over her head.

Until now.

She groaned, flopping back on the mattress.

“Oh, my God,” she moaned. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

“Harley?” Darcy’s worried face abruptly hovered over her. “Forgive me. I have a habit of putting my foot in my mouth.”

Harley heaved a sigh that came from the tips of her toes. “It’s not you, Darcy. It’s Salvatore Giuliani.”

“Typical.” Darcy scooted back so Harley could push herself up on her elbows. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“All of this,” Harley muttered.

“Could you be a little more specific?”

Harley shivered, briefly closing her eyes. Even from a distance, she could sense Salvatore. He was in a room directly below her, pacing the floor with a barely controlled impatience that she felt as vividly as if it were her own emotion.

She lifted her head to meet Darcy’s gaze. “I’m not sure I want to be a mate, let alone the freaking Queen of Weres.”

Darcy’s lips twisted at her plaintive, yes, maybe even childish, tone.

“Get in line,” she said bluntly.

“Excuse me?”

“I seem to have this conversation a lot over the past few days,” she said with a rueful shake of her head. “Harley, you aren’t the first woman to be…”

“Unhinged?” she helpfully supplied.

Darcy chuckled. “Okay, unhinged, by the thought of being irrevocably bound to a male. Especially if that male happens to be an arrogant, overbearing, far-too-fond-of-giving-orders demon.”

“You?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Styx tends to take arrogance to an epic level. He’s quite convinced that he’s been put on this earth to take command of everyone and everything. Including me.”

“Why didn’t you run?”

“I did.”

Harley jerked in astonishment. Not even the most cynical demon could fail to appreciate the devotion between Darcy and her vampire.

“Really?”

Darcy wrinkled her nose, clearly recalling one of those memories that you could only laugh about later.

“Styx and I had our own share of troubles.”

“Obviously you came back.”

“Because distance doesn’t change anything.” Darcy shrugged. “My bond to Styx isn’t just an ancient demon rite or sappy exchange of vows. He’s a part of me.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Wherever I am.”

The words did precisely nothing to reassure Harley.

“So you just gave up and let Styx take over your life?” she demanded.

Darcy’s eyes widened before she fell backwards on the bed, her laughter bouncing off the vaulted ceiling and echoing through the priceless chandeliers.

“Only in his dreams,” she at last managed to gasp, sitting up to wipe the tears from her face. “Actually, if you asked Styx he would tell you that I’ve completely taken over his life, and that he’s not even allowed to step out of the house without asking my permission.”

Harley frowned. The big, scary King of Vampires asking permission?

“I don’t believe it.”

“The truth is that we have both learned to compromise,” she said. “Styx has grudgingly accepted that I’m capable of making my own decisions, and I’ve grudgingly accepted that his position as Anasso means that he has to put himself in danger far too often.” She reached to grasp Harley’s hand. “It doesn’t mean that we don’t still have our moments, but we’ve learned we can discuss the situation and find a solution we can both live with.”

“Compromise? Salvatore? Yeah, right.” Harley snorted at the mere suggestion. Salvatore would learn to compromise when pigs learned to fly. “I don’t think so.”

“Trust me, Harley. He will learn to compromise because he won’t have a choice.”

“You obviously don’t know the pain-in-the-ass Were as well as you think you do.”

Darcy leaned forward, her expression oddly serious.

“I know that a male demon might be obsessed with his need to protect his mate, but he’s equally obsessed with his need to make her happy.” She caught and held Harley’s gaze. “The moment that Styx senses his overprotective habits are suffocating me, he has no choice but to back off.”

There was no doubting the sincerity in Darcy’s voice. She truly believed a demon like Salvatore could be tamed.

Not that Harley actually wanted to tame Salvatore.

No. Of course not.

She wanted…

What?

A frightening ache unfurled in the center of her heart. An ache that was directly connected to Salvatore Giuliani.

Dammit.

He made her crazy with the thought of being mated. And at the same time, he made her crazy with the thought of ever leaving him.

In other words, he flat-out made her crazy.

Shifting uneasily, Harley turned her attention to the stack of movies on the tray.

“Actually, I just want to forget Salvatore and our…mating for the next couple of hours.”

Darcy looked as if she wanted to press the benefits of being mated to an uberalpha demon with a throne, but easily recognizing the stubborn expression on Harley’s face, she heaved a rueful sigh.

“That should be simple enough.” She grabbed one of the mugs of hot chocolate.

Simple?

Harley lifted her brows, sensing she was missing something.

“Why do you say that?”

“When I spoke with Salvatore a short time ago, he mentioned he was leaving tonight and might be gone several days. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another without being bothered by the King of Weres.”

“Leaving?”

A sharp alarm had Harley off the bed and storming toward the door.

Salvatore hadn’t said a word to her about a road trip.

So either he was making plans for her without asking her opinion.

Or he intended to leave her behind.

Either way, he was going to get his assed kicked.

Chapter Twenty-One

Salvatore didn’t need anyone to tell him that he was an idiot.